


First Aid

by Reiya_Wakayama



Series: Pain Relief 'verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode: s01e07 Night School, Gen, Hurt!Derek, Magic!Stiles, Rogue Alpha, healer!stiles, this will be recurring frequently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek seems to be starting a new trend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Aid

**Author's Note:**

> So I took the scene where Derek gets his stomach clawed by Peter in 1x7 'Night School' and started from there since we never see what happens to Derek afterwards. He goes to Stiles for help which will become a new trend.
> 
> Also, this series will follow the series mostly, diverging as I see fit, but I have no idea where this will since I never meant to go further then the first part. XD

Stiles is just locking his jeep, brown paper bag of groceries balanced on his hip when he hears a soft grunt and the sound of something hitting concrete. Freezing, Stiles slowly sets the bag down on the ground, wincing as it crinkles.

Stepping forward, he quietly walks towards the back alley to see what made the noise. He isn’t expecting to find Derek Hale, local Alpha werewolf, to be bleeding out leaned against his side door. The Alpha’s eyes open and flick up to him, bright red in the dark.

Stiles sees he has his hand pressed against his stomach and can see the faint gleam of light on something liquid, blood most likely.

Stiles sighs loudly, “Again? Hang on.” He runs back and quickly grabs his bag of groceries before coming back. Derek is standing by the time he returns, leaning heavily against the wall. He’s nearly as pale as he was the last time he came to Stiles’ shop.

Fishing for his keys, Stiles quickly unlocks the door and lets him in before following and shutting the door behind them. Setting his bag down on the table, he turns to look at Derek who is leaning against another convenient wall. “So, no pack this time?” he asks, turning more lights on beside the small hall light behind him.

“They don’t know about this. I sent them home because it’s a school night,” Derek mutters, frowning at Stiles and grimacing as whatever wound he has sustained pains him.

“Come on, shirt off so I can see what you’ve done now,” Stiles says, motioning towards Derek’s shirt.

“I didn’t do this to myself,” he mutters but complies.

Stiles winces in sympathy at the gouges in Derek’s stomach. “Judging by the angle of those claw marks, I’d say you didn’t either, unless you can turn your hand around. So who did it?” Stiles asks, reaching into a cupboard for some cleaning cloths and his first aid kit.

“Another Alpha,” Derek says.

Stiles' hand jerks at his words and the kit falls to the counter with a crash. “What do you mean another Alpha?” Stiles says, turning to look at Derek.

“He’s been here for a few weeks. Haven’t you heard about the recent animal attacks?” Derek asks, frowning. Stiles had heard of them. When he’d called his dad after Derek’s first visit, his dad had told him about them and being called in to consult with the local Sheriff, something about a fresh pair of eyes.

“So there’s a rogue Alpha running around killing people and you and your pack are trying to stop him,” Stiles says, grabbing the cloths and kit and walking over towards the table. Pulling out a chair and pointing at it. Derek huffs but sits slowly.

“They don’t know about it,” Derek says softly. “They’re only high school student, even if they are all seniors and eighteen. They don’t need to be worrying about a rogue Alpha if they want to keep their grades up for college.”

“That’s actually kind of sweet in its own way, but that is going to backfire spectacularly when they find out you’ve kept them out of the loop,” Stiles says. He walks over to the sink and wets one of the cloths and comes back to start wiping away blood.

“How so?” Derek asks gruffly, glaring down at Stiles but letting him do his work.

“Imagine if it was you and the person you looked up to, your leader, kept you out of the loop. You wouldn’t trust them, would you? Even if it was for good reasons. They’ll think you either don’t trust them to watch your back or you think they’ll just get in the way.” Stiles winces as more of the gouges are revealed from under the blood. They’re healing, but it’s slow as any Alpha inflicted wounds do. “He certainly did a number on you,” Stiles says.

Derek just grunts. “What do you want me to do with this? I can stitch you up, but I’ll only have to take the stiches back out once you finish healing,” Stiles asks, looking up.

“Just something to keep me together while it heals,” Derek mutters.

“So tape and bandages; can do,” Stiles says and reaches inside his box for both. He also grabs an antiseptic spray bottle. “I’m not sure if you can get an infection like us little ol’ humans, but better safe than sorry. There’s no telling just what might have been on the Alpha’s claws.”

Derek hisses as Stiles sprays the wound and quickly tapes it up, using probably more tape then needed but he wants to be sure it holds. Grabbing a roll of gauze, he quickly starts to wrap it around Derek’s torso, leaning in close to get around his waist.

Sitting back, he studies his handy work. “That will hold for now. Try not to do anything too strenuous for a few hours please,” Stiles says and starts to clean up. Grabbing the left over plastic and bloody cloth, he chucks the garbage away and throws the cloth into the sink for later. He washes his hands as well.

Finished, Stiles turns to see Derek watching him. “What?” he asks self-consciously.

“Why do you do this?” Derek asks, frowning as if the puzzle of Stiles motives is frustrating.

“Because my mother taught me that healing is an unbiased gift that should be used whenever it is needed. I don’t care who or what my clients are, so long as they come asking for help and don’t try to force my hand,” Stiles says evenly, staring back with a straight face.

“Thank you,” Derek says, looking away in embarrassment.

“You’re welcome. Now about payment,” Stiles says and Derek flinches. “For materials used and time spent, I want all the information you have on this Alpha as well as any leads you have on where he might strike next.”

Derek blinks at him in confusion before slowly nodding, not expecting Stiles’ demand. “Okay,” he says.

Stiles frowns, glancing between Derek’s bare and bandaged torso and his blood shirt that’s in a heap on the floor. “Not that I don’t mind the sight, but you might be more comfortable with a shirt. The only problem is I’m not sure I have any that will fit you,” Stiles says with a small chuckle.

Derek shrugs as if his nudity is of no consequence. “Come upstairs and I’ll see what I can find.” Stiles grabs Derek’s shirt between two fingers with a grimace and tosses it into the sink with the dirty rag. Grabbing his bag of groceries, he leads the way to the stairs and up into his living area.

He motions Derek towards his couch before he heads for the kitchen and quickly puts away his things before making a beeline for his room. After much hunting, he finds an old sleep shirt in the bottom of his drawer. It’s a shirt he got from college, one of those free ones they hand out at the start of the semester to get people visiting interested in the school. Of course, by the time he got one, all they had left was XL.

He comes back out holding the shirt and tosses it to Derek who pulls it on. It’s huge on Stiles but seems to be only a little bit loose on Derek. The white UCLA letters stand out against the dark navy color. Nodding, Stiles motions towards the kitchen, “Hungry?” Derek nods and follows helps cut vegetables while Stiles cooks up some curry.

Derek tells him all he knows over the food, answering all of Stiles questions to the best of his abilities. By the time they move to the living room and the couch to keep talking, it’s nearing midnight. Stiles is just about to ask another question when he notices Derek’s head drooping a little bit, his eyes glassy with exhaustion.

“Oh, I’m sorry; sometimes I get carried away with my questions and can go all night. You must be tired,” Stiles says.

“I’ll go,” Derek says, and starts to get up.

“You can stay if you want. I know your instincts are probably telling you to find somewhere safe to hole up in. I mean you can go to your Betas’ homes but I don’t think you want them to find out about the Alpha because they can smell the blood on you. You can sleep here on the couch for the night,” Stiles says with a grin.

Derek sags and nods. Stiles grabs an extra pillow and blanket from his closet and hands them over. “Bathrooms through that door and there’s an extra toothbrush under the sink if you want to brush your teeth. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“Thank you,” Derek says softly.

“No problem. As payment for taking up my couch, I demand coffee and donuts for breakfast. Take all the time you need in the shower. I’ve got plenty of hot water,” Stiles says. Derek nods and Stiles heads down the stairs before he can say anything else.

It’s nearing two by the time Stiles finishes cleaning up downstairs and placing a few phone calls and leaving voice mails. One to his dad about wanting to meet up for lunch tomorrow, he needs to give his dad the heads up about the attacks. The other is to Deaton. He needs to pick that man’s brain about possible defenses against an Alpha werewolf and other nasty things he can put on his shop.

He heads up the stairs and stops in the doorway. Derek is zonked out. His head turned towards the back of the couch, his mouth open slightly as he breaths heavily. His boots are put neatly together and his socked feet are resting on the other arm of the couch. He looks better not frowning and being tense.

He’s about to head to his room when the alarm goes off in his head. Heading down the stairs, he goes to his side door. He’s about to open it when he gets a bad feeling. Reaching for his mountain ash bat he keeps beside the door, it works on all shape changers not just werewolves, Stiles opens the door slowly.

His heart skips a beat at the monstrous creature crouched in his alleyway. Its huge dark furred form blends in with the shadows. Glowing red eyes stare at him from above its muzzle filled with sharp fangs. Stiles opens the door a little more and hefts his bat, “Leave. You have no right to be here. I will use force if I have to.”

The Alpha blinks and takes a huge breath in, scenting the air. He huffs before shaking his head as if unconcerned with Stiles’ words. He stalks off and Stiles slowly shuts and locks the door. He sets the bat to the side with shaking hands. His heart is still beating rapidly.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Derek asks, coming down the stairs. His hair is standing up on one side of his head.

“Nothing, everything is fine. Go back to sleep,” Stiles says and pushes off the door and heads for the stairs.

Derek frowns but does as told without saying anything about the skip in Stiles’ heartbeat at his lie. Derek is settled back on the couch and Stiles is in the shower by the time he starts to think straight. He is definitely going to need to see Deaton about defense now. He may have just drawn the wrath of a rogue Alpha onto himself by taking in Derek.

Sighing, Stiles scrubs the last of his shampoo out of his hair and gets out. Drying off, he changes and heads for his room. He doubts he’ll get much sleep but he needs to try if tomorrow plans to be as long as he thinks it will be.

**End.**


End file.
